


Tie-Mates

by Verecunda



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, Age of Sail - Fandom, Historical RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/pseuds/Verecunda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nelson requires assistance with his queue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie-Mates

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Prompted by [this post](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/141720260329/imagine-person-a-braiding-person-bs-hair-while%22) on the [otpprompts](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com) tumblr: "Imagine person A braiding person B’s hair while person B works on a project." I'd just been chatting about nautical tie-mates, and, well...

“You do have a servant for this sort of thing, you know, my lord.”

“I know, Hardy, but I daren’t bother Allen just now. Not after the debacle with my coat this morning.”

“Hm.” Despite himself, Hardy had to concede that Tom Allen’s wrath could be fearsome indeed, especially when in connection with a new uniform coat that had got sopping wet after His Lordship had once again decided to pace the quarterdeck, without a cloak, in the middle of a blow. But it was Nelson’s beseeching expression that decided him. He smiled, shook his head - very much at himself - and took up the ribbon on the dresser. Nelson flashed him a grin, triumphant, then turned his head to let him get on with it.

“You don’t mind if I carry on with this letter to Marsden?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well.” He dipped his pen in the inkwell and returned it to the partly-written letter before him, murmuring as he went: “… _beg leave to refer you_ … et cetera, et cetera…”

Listening with one ear - for he already knew the substance of what was going into the letter - Hardy caught the ribbon between his teeth, the better to free both hands for the job. He combed his fingers roughly through the unruly white shock of Nelson’s hair, drawing it back, and attempted to gather it into one manageable tail. Easier said than done, for Nelson’s hair responded to commands about as readily as the rest of him. It had a way of escaping in stray wisps and curled, not helped by Nelson’s tendency to fidget, and at last Hardy was compelled to let go of the half-formed queue and press both hands to the sides of his head with a gentle but firm, “'Vast moving there, sir.”

“Oh! Yes. Beg pardon.” Nelson’s shoulders assumed an abashed slouch, and with the exception of his arm, still busily engaged in writing, he was tolerably still while Hardy made a second go of gathering up his hair. This he did at last and, holding the queue in place at Nelson’s nape, began binding it up with the ribbon. A few errant wisps still made their escape, but he kept the rest in a fair state of discipline, and just as Nelson reached the end of his letter - “ _I am, &c., Nelson and Bronte_” - Hardy deftly tied off the end of the ribbon, standing back to observe his handiwork - with no small satisfaction, it must be said.

“That’s you, sir.” 

Nelson reached up to touch the queue, then moved his head from side to side a couple of times, testing it.

“Yes… yes, I think that will answer very well, Hardy, thank you.” He turned in his chair and smiled up at him. “You are a dear fellow. Tie-mate as well as flag-captain. I trust,” he added impishly, “my appearance shall not now disgrace the ship?”

Hardy gravely pretended to study him. “I reckon you’ll do, my lord.”


End file.
